


tonight

by empathise



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathise/pseuds/empathise
Summary: Jaehyun has never known what it’s like not to be a prince, has never known how to freely love someone and be himself, but with Youngho, he doesn’t need to pretend.





	tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fruitbasskt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitbasskt/gifts).



> for ines ♡

The night is cold.

Jaehyun breathes in and breathes out. The palace is chilly at night, its thousand-year-old walls letting in more of the winter than he’d like, and he moves to the windows.

“Don’t you think it’s cold?” Jaehyun asks, staring into the expanse of the night, where the kingdom stretches out before him, vast and endless. Jaehyun can see the lanterns from the villages below. “Youngho?”

“It’s cold,” Youngho replies from where he’s standing against the far wall. Jaehyun turns to see him more properly. There’s a fur cloak draped over his shoulders, the pelt of a bear he’d saved Jaehyun from two winters ago, and his sword is sheathed at his waist, its hilt glimmering in the dim moonlight. “Your highness.”

Jaehyun frowns. “I thought I told you to stop calling me that in private,” he says, teasing. “Isn’t my name good enough for you?”

“I know, but—” Youngho looks away, looks to the side where Jaehyun can’t catch his gaze anymore. “It wouldn’t be appropriate. Not today.”

Youngho is silent then, and Jaehyun draws the curtains closed before he walks over to him. He can see the way that Youngho’s hand trembles on the hilt of his sword, the way that he holds himself stiffly, his back straight and unmoving. There’s a tension in the way he’s carrying himself that wasn’t there before today, and he’s refusing to even look at Jaehyun, even when Jaehyun steps closer and puts a hand on Youngho’s chest, his fingertips dancing along the armor that he still wears.

“Youngho,” Jaehyun says, soft. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this, your highness,” Youngho says instead of answering. “I can’t.”

“Youngho.”

There must be a change in Jaehyun’s tone, in Jaehyun’s voice, in something, because Youngho finally looks down at him, meets his gaze, and Jaehyun suddenly, suddenly wishes he hadn’t.

Youngho’s eyes are bright, and unease starts to settle in Jaehyun’s stomach.

“Your highness,” Youngho starts before he shakes his head, like he’s decided what he was about to say isn’t worth voicing anymore. “It’s— we really shouldn’t be like this anymore. It’s not proper. You’re the prince, and I’m—”

“My knight, forever and always,” Jaehyun murmurs, quiet. He extends a hand, his palm facing upwards, and he can’t stand it anymore, staring into Youngho’s eyes when he knows he can’t find the answer he wants there. He swallows. “One last time, Youngho. For old times’ sake?”

Youngho is silent for a long time, and the only sounds in the room are their breaths and their heartbeats. Jaehyun can almost swear that he can hear his own blood pounding in his ears, feel his own heart racing in his chest.

“ _Please_ ,” Jaehyun chokes out. “Please, just this once. And I won’t let this happen again.” Jaehyun smiles, hopes it isn’t too brittle. “Just one last time.”

“One last time,” Youngho says, and he takes Jaehyun’s hand, his fingers slipping into Jaehyun’s. Jaehyun almost melts into the touch, almost lets himself stumble into Youngho’s embrace, but he holds himself steady, holds himself still. “For you, your highness.”

 

 

 

Jaehyun was sixteen when he first met Youngho. There was a banquet being held for his older sister Soojung’s coming of age ceremony, and she gave him a knowing smile when he slipped off his cloak and crown, stashing them in his own room as his sister watched from the doorway. His presence wouldn’t be missed— he’d already given the appropriate introductions to the appropriate aristocrats and members of neighboring royal families, and neither of his parents would be likely to fuss over him when they had all of Sooyeon’s rabid suitors to worry about.

“Try not to cause too much trouble, baby brother,” Soojung said, her voice lilting, and Jaehyun only offered her a smile in response. She was exceptionally beautiful that day, clothed in deep red silks that trailed on the ground behind her wherever she went, and she lifted her goblet of wine to her mouth. “Gods only know we’re low enough on morale without you hovering by the grounds staring at the soldier boys.”

“I would never do such a thing, are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?” was what Jaehyun said before he ducked out of a hidden door, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself to avoid the autumn chill. He made his way to the training grounds, to where all of the recruits were running through exercises and drills with their partners.

Jaehyun stood at the very edge of the grounds, watching the soldiers, observing their fights. Most of them were around his age— some older, some younger, but the majority of them wouldn’t have been out of place at Soojung’s party if he were to plop them in one of Sooyeon’s perfumed baths and clothe them in his own silks.

It was easy enough to make out a recruit named Taeyong among the crowd. He was only two years older than Jaehyun himself, but he proved himself time and time again more than capable of holding his own in battle, especially against the point of Jaehyun’s blade. There was nothing Jaehyun liked more than to watch Taeyong fight whenever he had time— it was almost like he was dancing, playing with his opponents, and that day, there was someone new sparring with Taeyong, parrying all of Taeyong’s practiced strikes with ease. Jaehyun was instantly intrigued.

The first thing Jaehyun noticed when he walked closer to them was that the recruit was tall, standing almost a head taller than Taeyong did, and when Taeyong noticed Jaehyun standing there by the pitch, he motioned for the other recruit to stop.

“Your highness,” Taeyong said, inclining his head, and it was a testament to how many times Jaehyun and Taeyong have faced off in informal spars that he didn’t even flinch when Jaehyun reached forward to pluck the sword from his hands. “You’re not attending Princess Soojung’s banquet?”

“Already went, already left,” Jaehyun said easily. “The lords from the east want to make an alliance with Father’s party, the duke from the north is still asking for Sooyeon to give him the time of day, and Soojung’s already managed to scare off about twelve princelings who want her hand in marriage. All in all, a normal day as far as I’m concerned.”

Taeyong’s lips quirked upwards in a smile. “Sounds like you’ve been productive, running around to gather all of this gossip, your highness.”

“Certainly. You know me too well by now.” Jaehyun shifted his grip on Taeyong’s sword, hefted the weight of it in his hand as he turned to face the other recruit. “What’s your name?”

The recruit startled, his eyes going wide at being addressed directly. Interesting, Jaehyun thought to himself. Someone so outwardly imposing, someone who could stave off blows from one of the army’s best soldiers, someone who Jaehyun hadn’t even heard about until that day, could still be shaken. The soldier quickly picked up the pieces of his composure, folding his arms behind his back and staring down at Jaehyun. “I’m Youngho, your highness. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Youngho,” Jaehyun hummed. He rolled the word around his mouth, thought that was a name he might like to hear on the tip of his tongue more often. His back was to Taeyong, but he could practically sense the way Taeyong was exasperated beyond belief, _knew_ Taeyong must have been rubbing his forehead or putting his face in his hands. “Spar with me?”

Youngho eyed the sword in Jaehyun’s hand warily before his gaze slowly drifted back up to meet Jaehyun’s. “This isn’t a request, is it, your highness?”

Jaehyun’s smile widened.

This one learned quickly.

He was on his back in mere seconds after Taeyong sighed and motioned at them to start, Jaehyun standing over him in the dirt with the tip of Taeyong’s sword pointed at his neck. It was a wooden sword, one that’s barely capable of doing any real damage, but Youngho swallows anyway, and Jaehyun can see his Adam’s apple bob, can see the sweat beading on his forehead.

Youngho stared up at him the way so many other young soldiers had in the past, with a mixture of shock and awe and something like respect. Like the soldiers didn’t think their prince was capable of wielding a sword, like they didn’t think he couldn’t do anything but sit on downy cushions and drink wine all day. Like they didn’t expect Jaehyun to be anything but what his father was.

Jaehyun was going to prove them all wrong, one by one.

He dropped the sword onto the dirt and leaned down, one hand extended to the soldier, and Youngho’s grip was warm and firm when he took Jaehyun’s hand for the first time.

“That was quite,” Youngho started, before he shook his head, went back to the beginning. “You’re honestly something else, aren’t you, your highness?”

“Am I?” Jaehyun hummed. “I wouldn’t say so. I’m just the same as any one of you, really. It’s just me.”

 

 

 

Jaehyun is the first to move, pressing his palms against Youngho’s chest and leaning in to press his lips against Youngho’s. Youngho sighs into it, curling his arms around Jaehyun’s waist and tugging him closer, the feeling of his hands on Jaehyun’s body as absolutely electrifying as it had been the first time.

“Your highness,” Youngho whispers when they pull apart, and Jaehyun shakes his head.

“No, don’t call me that right now. I just want to be Jaehyun tonight.”

Jaehyun’s hands are shaking when they reach for the ties of Youngho’s cloak, but he gets it off, letting it cascade onto the tiles of Jaehyun’s room. Youngho makes short work of his own equipment, setting his sword to the side and unlacing his boots. His hands are warm and large when he starts to undress Jaehyun, untying the knots holding his outfit together. They’ve already done this so many times, but every single night when Youngho looks Jaehyun up and down like this, it feels like something new, something like Jaehyun’s never known before all over again.

Jaehyun shivers, and he knows it isn’t just from the cold. The wind isn’t as bad anymore, beating uselessly against the shuttered windows, but the chill in the room is still palpable, still bone-deep. He wants to be warm again.

Youngho backs Jaehyun up against the edge of his bed with practiced steps, lets Jaehyun drag him down onto the bed, and Jaehyun reaches up, cups the back of Youngho’s neck to chase the taste of his lips. Youngho settles on top of Jaehyun’s body, fitting himself in between Jaehyun’s spread legs, and he kisses a lazy trail down Jaehyun’s neck.

“Youngho,” Jaehyun sighs, carding his fingers through Youngho’s hair. It’s grown longer now, the ends tickling the tips of Youngho’s ears, and Jaehyun loves it the most when it’s like this, when the two of them are like this. When Youngho’s hair frames his face just right, when he looks up at Jaehyun with adoration in his eyes and it’s like all that matters in the world is the two of them.

“Jaehyun?” Youngho asks, and Jaehyun’s startled out of his thoughts. Youngho’s thumb is rubbing lazy circles along Jaehyun’s hip, and he’s staring intently at Jaehyun.

“Yeah?”

“What do you want to do?”

In lieu of an answer, Jaehyun hooks his legs around Youngho’s waist and digs his heels into Youngho’s back, and he grinds his hips against Youngho’s, drawing an aborted moan from Youngho’s mouth. Jaehyun’a always relished being able to elicit the sweetest sounds from Youngho, always loved how easy it is to make him come apart.

Youngho is nothing but kind, and Jaehyun knows that he might even follow his prince to the ends of the earth if he asked. He doesn’t want that, though. All he wants is one last night, one last moment, and maybe, just maybe, that’ll be enough. So he rolls his hips against Youngho’s again, licks his lips, and asks—

“Is this clear enough for you?”

 

 

 

Somehow, Youngho managed to insert himself so seamlessly into Jaehyun’s life that it was like he’d never _not_ been there. Jaehyun was used to spending his days with just Taeyong on the training grounds, but then there was Youngho, a presence by his side he couldn’t ignore.

“Hello, your highness,” Youngho would say every time Jaehyun came by the practice fields. He would cock his head and look up at the sky above them. Sometimes it was cloudy up there, sometimes it was clear skies, but it was never anything but those two. Jaehyun wouldn’t have been allowed out of the castle had the sky shown signs of inclement weather. “It’s a nice day out, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Jaehyun would agree, smiling as pleasantly as ever, because it was never not a nice day whenever he was allowed out. He would reach for an abandoned wooden sword, left behind by some recruit in his haste to get away from whatever the prince and his friends were up to. And then he would say, like he was reading off of a script, “Spar with me, won’t you?”

Youngho, like a fool, would always accept, would always say, “Of course, your highness.”

As if he could ever have refused.

 

 

 

Jaehyun has never lost to Youngho. Not in spars, not in arguments, nothing. The official record is this: Jaehyun two hundred and twenty-two, Youngho zero. Youngho became better and better with the sword with age and training, but Jaehyun had been trained since birth to wield a sword to protect himself when all else failed, when none of his guards could save him and he was on his own. Jaehyun is used to winning, winning, winning.

This, though, feels a lot like losing.

Youngho is settled in between Jaehyun’s legs. He’s thumbing at Jaehyun’s hips, digging his fingers into Jaehyun’s thighs, pressing his marks into where Jaehyun is sensitive and warm.

“Jaehyun,” Youngho is whispering into his chest, mouthing the syllables of Jaehyun’s name into his skin. It feels almost like a prayer, the way Youngho mouths gently at Jaehyun’s clavicle and presses a kiss over his sternum before whispering, again, “Jaehyun.”

“I think you should,” Jaehyun starts, and he grinds up into Youngho’s body, feels the hard planes of Youngho’s muscles against his skin. The feeling is like no other, and Jaehyun loves it. Youngho is good at resisting Jaehyun by now, ten years of companionship hardening Youngho’s resolve to Jaehyun’s tricks, but no matter how many of his nerves are made of steel by now, Youngho is no match for Jaehyun. “ _Ah, fuck—_ ”

There’s a lot that Youngho is good at resisting, and Jaehyun doesn’t know if it’s still true, but he learned the easy way a few years ago that Youngho has one weakness, and one weakness only:

“Me,” Jaehyun breathes out, before he’s reaching down to drag Youngho up to him, to drag him into a messy kiss. Youngho tastes like wine and chocolates, gifts from some entourage from the west, and Jaehyun is addicted to it, to him. “Fuck me.”

Youngho shivers at his words, his entire body going taut against Jaehyun, and Jaehyun revels in this victory. Two hundred and twenty-three.

-

Jaehyun heard from Doyoung long ago that the one thing he should never do as the prince was to become too attached to commoners. Doyoung was the son of the minister of foreign policy, and so he clearly thought himself one of the most important people in Jaehyun’s life. Which wasn’t _not_ true, but Jaehyun considered Doyoung a particularly annoying but essential part of his life. He was likely to become Jaehyun’s own foreign minister, so it was with mixed feelings that Jaehyun invited Doyoung to the practice grounds with him.

“You always spend your time there,” Doyoung sniffed on their way down, and Jaehyun resisted the urge to kick him. He had no doubt in his mind that Doyoung was in a constant state of wanting to knee Jaehyun where it mattered the most, too, so Jaehyun never felt bad about constantly harboring borderline violent thoughts where Doyoung was concerned.

“I do,” Jaehyun said noncommittally, and Doyoung paused mid-step.

“You never said what we’re going down to do.” Doyoung squinted at Jaehyun. “What exactly do you have in mind for today?”

“I want it to be a surprise.” Jaehyun put a finger up to his lips, and Doyoung didn’t look quite convinced. His eyebrows knitted together, his gaze full of suspicion, and Jaehyun did his best to affect the most beguiling smile he could.

“Really?”

“Of course.”

It was the best surprise of them all when Youngho knocked Doyoung flat on his back in a matter of seconds, and when Taeyong leaned down to offer Doyoung his hand, Doyoung smacked his hand away. Taeyong was unbothered, dragging Doyoung up with a wrist clamped around Doyoung’s arm, and he turned to face Jaehyun when Doyoung was on his feet again, a sour expression on his face as he dusted off his silks.

“Your highness, forgive me, but what crawled up his ass and died?” Taeyong asked as pleasantly as possible after he managed to drag Jaehyun out of earshot, and Jaehyun shrugged.

“He’s always been like this. I’m sure you’ll get used to it.” Jaehyun cast a glance at where Doyoung was inching slowly closer to Youngho, his mouth open like he was about to ask the soldier something, and he looked back at Taeyong. “I wanted you two to meet him. I just think we’d all get along well.”

Jaehyun wasn’t wrong. Just as Youngho had managed to worm his way into Jaehyun’s and Taeyong’s lfe, Doyoung did the same to their trio. He and Taeyong were constantly bickering, and he and Youngho were stuck in some strange dance of mutual respect and uncertainty, and he and Jaehyun were the same as they’d always been. He came down to the training grounds with Jaehyun, observed the recruits with more of an objective mindset than Jaehyun ever could, and when he offered advice on which soldiers Jaehyun would do well to keep an eye on, Jaehyun listened. Of course, the name at the very top of that list was Youngho.

“It seems like he’s trying really hard to impress you,” Doyoung hummed one night, dragging a careless finger down the parchment he’d been writing down some inventory counts he’d been asked to help with. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Jaehyun at all, scribbling in the margins while mumbling numbers under his breath.

Jaehyun blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t notice it?” Doyoung asked in lieu of a real response, and when Jaehyun shook his head, Doyoung only looked up and laughed at him. “Incredible. You really only see what you want to see, don’t you, your highness?”

“That’s not true,” Jaehyun protested, but Doyoung’s words kept ringing in his head. Was there something about Youngho that he had missed? Something about his personality, about his behavior, that had been strange?

“Suit yourself,” Doyoung said, and Jaehyun was perfectly content to live in total ignorance for once, if that meant he could continue to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as well.

 

 

 

Youngho’s mouth is warm on Jaehyun’s skin. He presses a kiss behind Jaehyun’s ear, nosing at his neck, anything to distract from the way his fingers are trailing down Jaehyun’s sides, slick with oil. Jaehyun lets out a breathless sigh when he feels Youngho’s fingers press at his entrance, rubbing against his hole. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, since he’s asked Youngho to come to his room, help him unwind, and it’s apparent in the way Youngho’s finger feels so foreign when it presses inside him.

“Are you okay?” Youngho asks, raising his head to study Jaehyun’s face, and Jaehyun shifts, pushing down onto the finger. It’s a little uncomfortable, but Jaehyun can already start to feel the pleasure start to crest through the pain, so he nods.

“I’m fine, keep going,” Jaehyun murmurs, winding his arms around Youngho’s neck and pulling him closer. He kisses Youngho, tasting wine on his lips. “I’m fine, just want you.”

“Jaehyun,” Youngho says, his words ragged, and he adds another finger, crooking them inside Jaehyun and making Jaehyun curl into him, his legs spreading to try to feel more of Youngho. He feels so _warm_ even in this cold winter night, bracketed against his own bed by Youngho’s body, every touch of Youngho’s sending fire down Jaehyun’s spine. He doesn’t know how much more he can take of this.

“Youngho, I’m ready, I’m fine, just do it already,” Jaehyun babbles, fucking down onto Youngho’s fingers, and he feels so, so empty inside when Youngho removes his fingers. Jaehyun pushes himself up so he can watch Youngho slick himself up, and Youngho leans forward to tumble Jaehyun back onto the pillows.

“Let me take care of you,” Youngho says, and all Jaehyun can feel is the way Youngho’s cock is pressing against his entrance, its fat head nudging past Jaehyun’s rim, and when Youngho bottoms out, his cock so deep inside Jaehyun that Jaehyun knows he’ll be feeling it tomorrow, Jaehyun curls his fingers into Youngho’s hair and drags him in again, licking messily into his mouth.

Youngho breaks the kiss first, and his eyebrows are knitted together as he stares down at Jaehyun’s face.

“What?” Jaehyun breathes, and Youngho shakes his head.

“I just— well, I just— oh, it’s nothing,” Youngho replies, a curious expression still on his face, and he starts to move, his hips snapping against Jaehyun’s, and Jaehyun moans when Youngho pulls out almost completely before fucking himself back in. Youngho’s grip is tight on Jaehyun’s hips, his fingers pressing so deeply into Jaehyun’s skin that he thinks— that he _hopes_ — there’ll be marks there tomorrow, Youngho’s reminder that they, too, once were connected as deeply as two people could be. Jaehyun just wishes there were some way to make them last.

 

 

 

It was a surprise to absolutely no one at all when Jaehyun, aged eighteen, selected a tall boy from the countryside to be the first member of the prince’s official guard. Youngho held his head high as he moved through the ranks of the soldiers to stand in front of Jaehyun, and Jaehyun reached up to pin a ribbon to his lapel that would designate him one of the prince’s most trusted men.

“It looks good on you,” Jaehyun murmured, and he patted Youngho’s chest. “You’ll make me proud, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Youngho replied, and he looked radiant then, the sun gleaming off of the hilt of the sword at his waist and making his eyes shine golden. Jaehyun thought, a little dazedly, that perhaps Youngho looked more like a prince than he did in that moment. That perhaps Jaehyun would be willing to lay down his sword, lay down his birthright, lay down his life, if he could keep Youngho by his side forever.

Then Youngho blinked and the gold was gone from his eyes and Jaehyun remembered his place, remembered Youngho’s place.

He drew back, clasped Youngho’s hands tight, and stepped away.

Jaehyun went down the list of recruits he had selected: Taeyong, who stepped up to stand by Youngho’s side, the ribbon that marked him second in command pinned to his outfit; Yuta, who grinned and drew Jaehyun in for a warm hug, the way he always did; Sicheng, a boy Jaehyun had taught to wield his sword properly when the swordmaster didn’t who now smiled at the crowd; and Ten, who bowed his head with his eyes sparkling as brightly as the dagger he wore on his belt.

Jaehyun turned to face the gathered audience, lords and ladies from all over the country who had come in hopes that Jaehyun would select their sons for his guard, and he felt all eyes on him.

“Presenting the Crown Prince’s Guard,” one of Jaehyun’s father’s advisers intoned, and Jaehyun turned to give all of his men a proud smile, one that they all returned. But he wasn’t looking at Ten, or Sicheng, or Yuta, or even Taeyong. He was looking straight at Youngho and the hand Youngho kept on his chest, his hand over the ribbon pinned over his heart, and Youngho caught Jaehyun’s gaze.

 _Thank you_ , Youngho mouthed, his face so open and kind, and Jaehyun felt warm all over, felt like he’d been struck with lightning from the heavens above.

Jaehyun figured it out after a few weeks of feeling odd whenever Youngho as much as looked at him, which happened far too often for his comfort, which was to be expected since Youngho _was_ his personal guard, after all. It was on a summer day, when the sun shone unrelentingly down on them and made Jaehyun feel like he was about to die from the heat. They were alone, Youngho and Jaehyun, since the rest of his guard were likely patrolling the hallways near his quarters. Alone, just like how Jaehyun wanted it.

Youngho stood by his side as he cooled off in a chaise by the open window, a bowl of fruits resting on the sill, and Jaehyun waved Youngho over.

“Your highness?” Youngho asked, and Jaehyun picked up a berry. It was red and ripe, and Jaehyun reached up, held it up to Youngho’s face as he leaned down to meet Jaehyun’s reach. “Your highness, what is it?”

“Youngho,” Jaehyun said. He pressed the berry against Youngho’s lips, and Youngho parted his lips, took the berry into his mouth, and red dripped down Jaehyun’s palm and down his arm. He watched as Youngho’s eyes traced the path it took, winding down Jaehyun’s skin and disappearing under the folds of his clothes, and he saw as Youngho swallowed. “Is it good?”

“It’s good,” Youngho said after a beat.

“Have another.”

Jaehyun’s hands were stained crimson by the time the bowl was empty, and he held one last berry between his fingers. “I want you to feed me, Youngho,” Jaehyun said suddenly, looking up at Youngho. He held out the berry, and Youngho took it with shaking fingers. His fingers trembled minutely as he held the berry to Jaehyun’s mouth, and Jaehyun bit down on the berry, and it was sweet on his tongue.

Youngho made a small sound, made an aborted motion, like he was about to turn, and Jaehyun leaned forward and licked the tips of his fingers.

“Your highness,” Youngho gasped as Jaehyun took Youngho’s fingers into his mouth, sucked on them, licked them clean.

“Call me Jaehyun,” he said, releasing Youngho’s fingers with a wet pop, and he stared up at Youngho. “Can I kiss you?”

“Your— Jaehyun,” Youngho whispered, hushed, and his other hand was resting on the windowsill, clenched so tightly they were white. “We shouldn’t.”

“That isn’t a no, is it?” Jaehyun reasoned, and he stood up. His fingers left wet spots on Youngho’s dark uniform, and he made a note to himself to have his clothes washed. “I think we should.”

And Jaehyun was right: Youngho tasted like berries both sweet and sour, like the oppressive summer heat, but most of all, he tasted like _freedom_.

 

 

 

“Stop, Youngho, wait,” Jaehyun chokes out, and Youngho stills immediately, pulling out and pushing himself up to look down at Jaehyun with eyes full of alarm. Jaehyun rolls over and props himself up on his hands and knees without giving Youngho time to overthink what Jaehyun wants as he looks back over his shoulder. “I want you like this, fuck me like this.”

Youngho doesn’t need to be told twice, guiding the head of his cock back into Jaehyun’s hole, and Jaehyun’s knees nearly buckle and give way when Youngho starts to move. Youngho’s body is warm over Jaehyun’s, and Jaehyun feels overheated, overwhelmed, and it doesn’t take long at all before Youngho drops his face into Jaehyun’s shoulder and murmurs in his ear, “Jaehyun, I’m—”

“Come in me,” Jaehyun urges, fucking back onto Youngho’s cock. “Please, I know you want to, _please_.”

And Youngho does as Jaehyun says, spills inside Jaehyun with a groan cut short when he muffles it against Jaehyun’s skin. Youngho rolls them over so that he’s lying on his side, his face still pressed into Jaehyun’s neck, and he reaches for Jaehyun’s cock and fists it, jacking him in time to match his languid thrusts. Jaehyun comes without a single sound, shuddering as he spills into Youngho’s hand. Youngho presses a kiss to the back of Jaehyun’s neck before he moves to get up, and Jaehyun reaches for him, grabs his arm so he won’t go too far.

“Stay with me a little longer, alright?”

Jaehyun tucks himself back into the circle of Youngho’s arm, his back snug against Youngho’s chest, and he’s content to lie here like this, to curl up under thick woolen blankets and pretend that everything is alright. To pretend that tomorrow, a delegation from the eastern territories aren’t sending their firstborn daughter with carriages full of jewelry and trinkets and that there aren’t already centuries-old arrangements in place for situations like his to arrange for marriages between suitable partners. To pretend that tomorrow, Jaehyun won’t be meeting her for the first time, two strangers in the morning, and that he won’t be slipping a golden ring onto her finger, two newlyweds at night. To pretend that tomorrow, everything will still be the same, that Youngho will still be Jaehyun’s knight, Jaehyun’s guard, Jaehyun’s. That Jaehyun can still be Youngho’s.

He doesn’t even mention it when he feels a curious wetness against his skin, when he hears soft noises behind him. He just curls his hands over the hand that’s resting on his chest over his heart, and he wishes that things could be different. Maybe in a different life, he would be braver. Maybe he would let himself touch Youngho without worrying who’s there to see, kiss Youngho without drawing all of the curtains and locking all of the doors, love Youngho openly and without reservation.

Youngho is warm, his presence like the sun, his body like a furnace that lights Jaehyun up from within. Jaehyun only wishes that they had more time.

But tonight, Jaehyun folds himself into Youngho’s body as much as he can, desperate for Youngho’s touch against the biting chill, and he closes his eyes.

They’ll always have tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was just the two of them, riding through the woods just to escape the monotony of the palace walls. The sunlight streamed through the forest, dappled shadows playing on the leaves surrounding them, and Jaehyun couldn’t take his eyes from Youngho.

“Youngho,” Jaehyun said abruptly, and Youngho looked over.

“Yes, your highness?”

Jaehyun’s heart clenched in his throat, trying to figure out what he wanted to say, how to put everything he wanted to say into words. “Whatever happens, you’ll be here, right? With me?”

Youngho was silent, and for a split second, Jaehyun thought _no, he’s going to refuse_. But Youngho’s eyes crinkled and he smiled and he said—

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! here's a tissue for you :'( ♡


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